


Fire

by BisexualDisastaur



Series: #FEGenWeek2020 [5]
Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canonical Character Death, Depression, F/M, Gen, Introspection, It's Fallen Berkut fam it's gonna be angsty, Spoilers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23810992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisexualDisastaur/pseuds/BisexualDisastaur
Summary: As a source of light, she does not cast a shadow.
Relationships: Berkut/Rinea (Fire Emblem)
Series: #FEGenWeek2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709977
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26
Collections: Fire Emblem Gen Week 2020





	Fire

As a source of light, she does not cast a shadow.

He knows she is there—an ever present, oppressive heat draped over his shoulder. He knows she is there, from the glances the other so-called “Heroes” give him in fear. He knows she is there, when _she_ (alive, smiling, a shadow stretching behind her) gives a shrill scream when she sees him, falling back into the embrace of his other self.

He walks past them both, eyes empty and armor melting while his queen gazes at him, leaving cinders in her wake.

* * *

They try to help him. The Summoner attempts to talk to him, tries to get closer to him. It’s so satisfying to stab Kriemhild into their stomach, watch them choke on ash and blood. Their friend opens a tome—beats him back into submission. The healers save them. What a pity.

A monk appears before him, wielding an axe but with his hands spread in forgiveness. He snarls. He will not ask for it, will not _beg_ to be forgiven. ~~He doesn’t deserve it.~~

A princess comes to stand before him. She wields no weapons, but has an untouchable air to her. “You are already gone,” she says sadly. “Do you not wish to rest?”

She stretches out a hand, her long fingers skeletal in her black gloves, and he flinches back. She steps forward, reaching out to brush her fingers against the fire by his side. “What are you living for?” She asks quietly.

They cannot answer.

A woman stands before them, blue hair tied into simple pigtails. “Why must you set yourself aflame just to see the world burn?” She asks.

He snarls, because even with the frost spreading from under the feet of the woman, he can see that she too is trapped within flames—can see her flesh rotting and her bones crumbling.

Her eyes flash, as if she can see him analyzing her, and her answer comes in the form of ice, spears that form in the air and spin around her, as if to attack. Or perhaps they are to guard her, to save her own life even though she chose to throw it away before. He wonders what would have happened, if he had done that too, instead of choosing to sacrifice his love.

He readies his own spear in retaliation, although his fire flickers.

More come to see him. His cousin, the traitor. His uncle, the liar. Himself, the broken mirror.

* * *

She finally comes to him, one day. It is dusk, and her shadow spreads out long behind her. He stands before her in the empty hallway, the fading sunlight coloring everything red. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine the castle burning, everything falling so that he may finally rest, so that he may finally return to her.

Yet, she stands before him. Everything about her is blue, like a rain of forgiveness, from her hair to the tips of her shoes. She is beautiful, even as she steps up to him to cradle his cold, dead cheek.

“I love you.” His voice escapes him hoarsely as he tilts his head into her touch. 

She does not answer for a while, eyes searching his face. Finally, she replies. “I cannot love you.”

Anger rises in him, and the flames answer. “Why!?”

“Because you have someone else who loves you. And she is here, right by your side.”

She leaves, and he collapses to his knees. Tears slide down his cheeks, and sobs escape from his chest, even as the heat and the light surround him.

Darkness truly falls, and the stars slowly rise in the sky to twinkle at each other in greeting. In the empty hallway, a fallen emperor kneels.

 _Dance with me, Berkut._ Rinea whispers, and he obligingly stands, clasping her hands to twirl her in a waltz.

His shadow dances alone.


End file.
